


Behind Closed Doors

by HardNoctLife



Series: IgNoct Week 2019 - HardNoctLife [7]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Arguing, Duty, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Romance, Explicit Language, Feelings, Feelings Realization, Fights, Gay, Getting Together, Ignoct Week, Ignoct Week 2019, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, One Shot, Resolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-07
Updated: 2019-08-07
Packaged: 2020-08-11 05:55:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20148742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HardNoctLife/pseuds/HardNoctLife
Summary: IgNoct Week 2019 Day 7: “Public/Private”When Ignis publically agrees to a plan to have Noctis court the Princess of Tenebrae, the prince expresses his disapproval.





	Behind Closed Doors

[ ](https://ibb.co/Ky0r88L)

“I thought you could do anything,” Noctis joked. He looked over his shoulder to where Ignis was standing in the doorway, the advisor dressed in one of his more form-fitting suits. The prince’s tie was still undone, but he had insisted on tying it himself—he was eighteen, after all, and well past the stage of needing others to dress him. Although, it would have been much faster if someone had, Ignis lamented. The older boy glanced down at his watch pointedly, and Noctis’s fingers began to work the fabric—over, under, through.

“Even I cannot pull miracles out of thin air. You _are_ the prince. Your attendance at council meetings will be an expectation going forward.”

“Yeah, well, my dad is still king, isn’t he? I’m not sure why they even want me there.”

Ignis couldn’t help but agree, especially since the prince had slept through the last meeting. He’d kicked Noctis under the table when he started snoring, and the prince had startled awake, nearly falling out of his chair. Regis had pulled Ignis aside in private later, and he had apologized profusely on Noctis’s behalf. He still flushed just thinking about it.

“What is this meeting about anyway?” Noctis wondered as he smoothed his tie down. He buttoned his jacket on the way out the door, falling into stride beside Ignis as they walked out of the apartment.

“An envoy from Tenebrae will be arriving in Insomnia tomorrow. There are some treaties and agreements on the table that need to be discussed.” The advisor went through his mental checklist as they climbed into the car that was waiting to take them to the Citadel. He knew of one item on the agenda in particular that the prince would be sure to detest, and he was already mentally preparing himself for the fallout that would surely occur when it was brought to the young heir’s attention.

“Tenebrae?” Noctis questioned as he fastened his seatbelt. “Isn’t that where the Oracle resides?”

Ignis shifted in his seat, glancing out the window to avoid meeting the prince’s eyes. “Yes. Princess Lunafreya, the youngest Oracle of our time. She will be visiting as well.” He reached to adjust one of his cufflinks that had come undone, idling. “I imagine you will be introduced shortly.”

Noctis snorted and slumped down, kicking the back of the chair in front of him. “Great. Just what I wanted to do this weekend, entertain a bunch of royals and politicians. You’ll make sure I get out of it, right Specs?” The prince sounded hopeful, and Ignis felt a pang of guilt.

“You expect too much of me, Highness,” he answered softly, hoping to dissuade him. Noctis laughed, short and sweet, shaking his head.

“I know you can handle it.”

* * *

“You’re joking right?” Heads swiveled to where the Prince of Lucis was seated on the far end of the room, arms folded across his chest. His jaw was clenched, mouth pressed into a line, and his storm cloud eyes flashed with lightning as his rage rolled off him in waves. Ignis resisted the urgent need to move away from him.

The councilman who had just spoken looked helplessly to the head of the table where King Regis sat.

“Noctis, as prince, you must do your part to secure political alliances. Sometimes, that requires doing things you may not want to,” the young man’s father explained gently.

“You want me to go on a date with a girl I’ve never even met,” he said flatly.

“The _Princess_ of Tenebrae, _and_ the Oracle,” the councilman corrected. “It is imperative she looks upon Lucis favorably in light of recent events in Niflheim. You are of a courting age, Your Highness. A match with Lady Lunafreya would be more than ideal.” Noctis fixed a stony gaze on the politician and the man winced back like he had been punched.

“I’m not some bargaining chip you can just throw onto a pile,” Noctis hissed, low and threatening. Ignis could feel the prince’s anger building, the air in the room compressing at an astounding rate. It was like breathing water. And if he didn’t do something soon, they would all drown.

“If I may, Your Majesty,” Ignis interjected. Everyone seemed to straighten, even Noctis, and all eyes fell on the prince’s advisor. The monarch inclined his head, indicating that he could proceed, and Ignis took a deep breath, speaking carefully. “Please allow me to accept the blame. As Prince Noctis’s advisor, I did not do an adequate job of preparing him for the situation or what his duties might require of him in an event such as this. I humbly request that we table this discussion until I have an opportunity to explain the matter with him in private.”

Ignis could feel Noctis’s stare like hot metal burning against his flesh, but he continued to face forward, awaiting the king’s response. Finally, King Regis gave a slow nod.

“Very good, Ignis. On to the next order of business…”

Ignis sank back in his chair, grateful to have avoided a public meltdown from the prince. When he finally looked over at Noctis he had turned away, hands clenched into fists beneath the table, knuckles turning white from the strain.

* * *

The car ride back to Noctis’s apartment from the Citadel was spent in silence. Noctis hadn’t spoken since the incident during the council meeting, and Ignis began to wonder if he had made a mistake in requesting a reprieve from the king on the prince’s behalf. The more he thought about it though, the more he convinced himself that he had done the right thing. Once he had a chance to explain things in terms that Noctis would understand, the prince would come around—he was sure of it.

Noctis exited the car before it had come to a complete stop, bolting for the entrance. Ignis, more circumspect, took his time following and nearly got a door slammed in his face as Noctis stepped into the apartment ahead of him.

Catching it with a grunt, Ignis’s brows furrowed in irritation. He was opening his mouth to deliver a reprimand, but Noctis was faster.

“I can’t believe you’re taking their side!”

Ignis gaped at the accusation, letting the door swing closed as they moved through the entryway and into the living room.

“Noct, this isn’t about _sides_—”

“This is ridiculous! What’s next, locking me in a room with her until I propose?” the prince seethed, arms waving wildly in protest.

“If you would only _listen_, you would know that—”

“No, _you_ listen!” Noctis interrupted, a finger pointing into Ignis’s chest. His advisor huffed, placing hands on his hips in exasperation. “You may be my advisor, but I’m still the fucking prince, and there’s no way in hell I’m doing this.” Ignis’s fingers curled, cutting into his hip bones. He counted to three in his head, taking a deep breath.

“Your Highness, it is time to cast your childish ways aside and to start acting like the future king.” Ignis’s eyes narrowed slightly, toe-to-toe with his ward. Noctis ground his teeth.

“Is this what you want, Ignis?” his tone dropped.

“I want whatever is best for our nation—and for you,” Ignis replied in the same tenor. Neither of them moved, bodies tensed as if for a fight.

Noctis was the first to break eye contact, throwing his arms up. “Fine. Have it your way. You’re always right, aren’t you? You think you’re _so_ smart—that you’ve got it all figured out.” The words that flew out off the prince’s mouths were like daggers, cutting away at Ignis’s sensibilities. He could feel a deep heat rising in his chest as Noctis pressed on, relentless and cruel. “You say you want what is best for me when we’re alone, but then you throw me under the bus at the first opportunity. You’re all talk, Ignis. When it comes down to it, you’re not in this for me at all.” Ignis felt his shoulders tremble, throat constricting.

“Whether it’s the Princess of Tenebrae or someone else, you’d sell me to the highest bidder if my father would pat you on the back and tell you ‘good job,’ but guess what, Ignis?” Ignis’s chin was lifting, eyes aflame with bitter disdain as he glared at Noctis. “I don’t have to do anything I don’t want to, so _fuck_ my father and _fuck _you—”

The _SMACK_ rang out like a gunshot.

It was difficult to tell who was more surprised out of the two, their expressions mirror images—‘o’ shaped mouths, wide eyes.

Ignis’s arm remained suspended where it had come across prince’s face of its own accord, a red mark with five distinct outlines imprinted in Noctis’s cheek. Noctis’s skin burned from the impact of the slap and he reached up to where it throbbed, covering it with his palm.

“I—I’m so sorry Noct, I don’t know what came over me,” Ignis said in a rush.

A severe look overshadowed Noctis’s face, drawing his eyebrows down, and before Ignis could say anything more, the prince was lunging at him, fists flying.

Ignis acted on instinct, forearms coming up to block, smoothly deflecting the blows as he retreated into a defensive stance.

“Noct!” Ignis protested.

The prince kept coming though, and Ignis danced into the kitchen and against the island, ducking to avoid getting tackled in the onslaught. Noctis let out a guttural cry of frustration.

“Stop this—”

A blow connected with Ignis’s gut as he tried to catch the Prince’s hands and missed. He doubled over, falling into the table with a _crash, _glasses flying off, and soon found Noctis on top of him, already rearing back for another hit_._

This time, Ignis didn’t miss when he reached out, and he twisted Noctis’s wrist with all the expertise of the Crownsguard. Noctis gasped, body following the pain to avoid having his bones snap in two, and suddenly their positions reversed.

Ignis pinned Noctis between his legs and threw both of the prince’s hands down with a _smack_-_smack_ on the cold tile, chest heaving with exertion. The raven-haired boy glared up at him despite having lost the upper hand, and Ignis had to resist the urge to laugh from the sheer gall of it.

“Are you finished throwing your tantrum?” Ignis’s accent was thick with irritation, and he leaned his weight heavily over Noctis’s hips. The prince remained tense, and Ignis knew better than to release him. Like those who wrestled sahagins, if you let go of its clamped jaws before subduing it entirely, you’d lose more than just an arm. So, he waited, watching Noctis’s face for any indication he might have given up.

There were no such signs. The prince doubled down.

“Tell me something, Specs.”

“Hm?” Ignis’s pulse was still racing from the spurt of fighting, and he struggled to regain his composure. Adrenaline ebbing, he became acutely aware of the fact that he had not only slapped the crown prince, but that he was sitting on top of him, intimately closer in proximity than they had ever been. He shifted and immediately regretted the friction it caused.

“Did it feel good to hit me?”

It wasn’t the question Ignis had been expecting, and he almost loosened his hold in surprise, but managed to catch himself.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you lose it before.” The prince laughed, and Ignis hated the way his heart stuttered in response. “It’s kinda…nice.”

Ignis squinted down at Noctis then, the edges of his vision blurry without his glasses. The prince had adopted a feline smirk, strangely satisfied. Stomach doing somersaults, Ignis went still, the temperature in the room suddenly spiking so that he felt beads of sweat forming at the base of his neck.

“Truth or dare, Iggy.”

“Highness, this is no time for games,” Ignis insisted quietly even as the volume of his own heartbeat grew to deafening levels.

“Okay, I’ll pick for you. Truth. Do you want to kiss me?”

Ignis recoiled like he had just touched a hot stove, both hands yanking back. Noctis left his arms where they laid above his head, still smug.

“That’s absurd,” Ignis sputtered. He could feel his face flushing and cursed inwardly at his body’s betrayal.

“All right, if you won’t answer then—I dare you to kiss me.”

For the second time that day, all of the air was sucked from the room. It was a power that Noctis had adopted from a young age without realizing it, and more and more, Ignis found himself unable to breathe around him.

Ignis thought he had been careful in masking his feelings—but what he had told the king had been true. He’d done a miserable job of preparing Noctis for the potential of future suitors, and he knew his own desires were mainly to blame.

He had been selfish.

Yet, to have those feelings thrown back in his face—especially now—hurt in ways he couldn’t have imagined. His mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, unable to form an adequate response.

_You don’t need to be cruel_, he wanted to say, but then he thought, _maybe I am merely reaping what I have sown. He is not a child any longer._

Noctis leaned himself up on his forearms, causing Ignis to shift back. When he managed to sit up, they were so close that their noses brushed. Ignis trembled, caught in the prince’s gravity, eyes downturned.

When their lips met, a new fire ignited in the pit of Ignis’s abdomen and the last of the man’s sensibilities melted in its heat. He ran his tongue over the prince’s lips, savoring the taste of him as they sank back onto the tile, arms wrapping around one another.

There was a voice in the back of Ignis’s mind that screeched like an alarm going off, telling him he knew better, that this was a mistake, that he would regret his choice to allow one moment of passion to ruin years of work.

But the advisor’s conscience still wasn’t strong enough to free him from the prince’s orbit, his heart revolving in Noctis’s hands helplessly as they wandered across his body.

Some phenomena simply cannot be explained. Like the Pitioss Ruins, or last vestiges of Solheim, what had blossomed between the prince and his advisor was a tale older than time itself, growing behind closed doors until it could no longer be contained.

Once again, Ignis found himself breathing heavy with exertion, except this time the circumstances were pleasant, with kisses on the cheek instead of slaps, and laughter instead of cursing. When they finally came to rest against one another, Ignis’s head swam pleasantly, drunk off of endorphins and Noctis.

They stared up at the ceiling, not speaking for a while. Neither one of them wanted to be the first to return to reality, the knowledge of Princess Lunafreya’s imminent arrival lurking in the background of their minds.

“So…what now?” Noctis wondered.

Ignis shook his head. “I haven’t the faintest idea.”

The conversation lulled briefly as they both thought.

“I’ll tell my dad I’m not interested.” Ignis’s head turned, peering at the prince in wonder. “If he wants me to be king someday, I’m going to do it on my terms, not anyone else’s.” Noctis’s words were firm and confident, leaving Ignis wondering how he had grown up without him realizing it. A strange sense of pride nestled its way beneath Ignis’s ribs, warming him.

They pushed themselves up, untangling their limbs and readjusting their clothes. Ignis retrieved his glasses and scanned Noctis as if viewing him for the first time. The prince smiled.

“So, when I break it to the council—will you have my back?” Noctis’s words were teasing, but there was an undertone of genuine concern.

The doors had been thrown wide open, and Ignis was intent on walking through them, into the light. 

“Always.” 

**Author's Note:**

> This author responds to all comments! Feel free to talk to me directly on Tumblr (hard-noct-life) and Twitter (@HardNoctLife)
> 
> Art by AceFlorins (@aceflorins, Tumblr/Twitter)


End file.
